“Me?”
“Yes, you. I’d expected to find a quiet—” he hesitated, then cleared his throat “—rather thin and plain-looking young woman living an equally quiet life in the country. At least, that was what Brad had implied. If he could only see you now! You own your own shop—in the city, no less. You’re beautiful. You dress smartly. You’re bright as all get-out. And you’re sure as hell not falling atmyfeet.” He took a begrudging breath. “Yes, I’m intimidated.”
Lauren had felt suspended during his short speech. Now she realized how absurd her own attack must have sounded. “Funny,” she managed to say in a small voice, “you don’t look intimidated.”
He squeezed his eyes together. Even before they relaxed and opened, a smile had begun to form on his lips. “I guess I’m not now, at least not as much as I was before. For someone who is beautiful and chic and super-intelligent, you’re really pretty normal.”
She smiled self-consciously, averting her gaze. “I think we’re missing the sunset.”
“I think you’re right.”
They returned to their own side of the boat, then switched when the vessel made a slow turn and headed back to the docks. Neither of them said very much. Lauren, for one, was lost in her own thoughts.
In spite of Matt’s explanation, she still felt stunned that her looks had put him off. Initially her pride had been hurt. The thought that she’d drastically improved her appearance only to find that it kept men away was unsettling; hence she’d lashed out.
Or had she simply been searching for a wedge to put between Matt and her?
He was too attractive, too easy to be with, too firmly aligned with Brad and a way of life that she’d been indoctrinated to frown on. No, she wasn’t exactly frowning now, but neither could she turn her back on the disappointment of Brad’s long-ago desertion. And then came the guilt. She’d acceded to her parents’ view of Brad as a failure, yet she’d accepted his money—lots of it. Did an architect masquerading as a carpenter earn that much money? Had he banked every spare cent for some eleven years?
She realized that there were many more questions she wanted to ask Matt about Brad. In hindsight, she wondered if he’d been evasive when talking about her brother’s work. His answers had been short, his expression solemn. He’d opened up more about Brad’s personal life, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if there were some things he hadn’t said.
The boat pulled alongside the dock, its lines were secured, and the gangplank was lowered.
“You must be starving,” Matt said. “Want to catch a bite at my hotel?” The Marriott was only a short distance from where they stood, but Lauren quickly shook her head.
“I’d better be getting home. It’s been a long day.”
“Are you sure?”
This time she steeled herself against the cocoa softness of his gaze. She needed time to acclimate herself to his appearance in her life. He was a figure from Brad’s past, yet the immediacy of him unbalanced her. What she craved was the solid footing of her own home.
“I’m sure,” she said with a gentle smile. “But … thank you, Matt. This has been lovely.”
“At least let me walk you to your car. It’s pretty dark.”
“And the path to my car is well lighted all the way. Really, I’ll be fine.”
Matt straightened his shoulders and nodded. “Well, take care, then.”
She started off, half turning as she walked. “Good luck with your work. I hope it goes well.”
He nodded again and waved, then turned and headed for his hotel. Lauren didn’t look back until she’d crossed Atlantic Avenue, and by then he was gone.
The late-afternoon sun glanced brilliantly over the Hollywood Hills, but the shades in the study were drawn as its proprietor entered, strode across the tiled floor to the desk and picked up the telephone.
“Yes?”
“We’re on our way.”
“It’s about time. I’d assumed I would have heard from you sooner.”
“She’s a clever girl. Covered her tracks like a pro—almost. I still don’t know who helped her out of L.A., but you were right about the Bahamas. She went back to the same clinic she visited when the two of you were vacationing on the islands last fall. That was her only slipup.”
“Then you’ve found her?”
“She had plastic surgery, just like you thought she would. Not much. Subtle changes. There was a phony ‘before’ shot stuck into the doctor’s files and a bunch of misleading medical reports, but the ‘after’ shot had just enough similarity to the real thing to give her away. Her hair’s different now, darker and shorter. And she’s taken a different name.”
“We knew she would. Where is she?”
